CHAPTER FOUR: THE LAKE
Writer's POV
Present Day - Age 12
The invitation came on thick cream cardstock with embossed gold lettering.
You are cordially invited to celebrate
Lucas & Evan Harlow's 12th Birthday
Saturday, October 31st
Harlow Estate
Fabiola held it like it might bite her. Three years of sitting next to Evan in class. Three years of trying to make him smile, talk, acknowledge her beyond those strange moments when he'd go still and just... breathe. Like he was scenting the air around her.
Three years of her mother's warnings.
And now this.
"You're not going," Rosa said, snatching the invitation from Fabiola's hands.
"Mama...."
"No. That house is wrong. Those boys are wrong. Especially the quiet one."
"His name is Evan," Fabiola said quietly. "And he's not wrong. He's just... sad."
Rosa's face softened. She cupped Fabiola's cheek. "My sweet girl. Your heart is too big. But some sadness is catching, like a disease. And that boy..." She shook her head. "He carries death in him. I see it every time I pick you up from school. The way he looks at you like you're water and he's drowning."
"Maybe I can help him."
"You can't save people who don't want to be saved."
But Rosa underestimated her daughter's stubbornness. That Saturday, when Sofia got invited to a friend's house and her parents had errands to run, Fabiola told them she'd stay home and read.
Instead, she put on her best dress deep purple with yellow flowers, the one that made her dark skin glow and walked the two miles to the Harlow estate.
The house loomed at the end of a long driveway, all gray stone and dark windows. Gothic, her father would've called it. Haunted, her mother would've said.
Beautiful, Fabiola thought.
There were balloons tied to the mailbox, streamers on the porch, the sound of children laughing from the backyard. Normal birthday party sounds.
But as Fabiola walked up the driveway, the laughter seemed to fade, swallowed by something heavier. The air here felt thick, like walking through water.
She found the party around back a sprawling lawn that stretched down to a dark lake. There were maybe twenty kids, mostly from school, clustered around tables laden with food. In the center of it all was Lucas, surrounded by admirers, his smile bright as he opened presents.
Evan was nowhere to be seen.
Fabiola scanned the crowd, her heart sinking. Maybe this was a mistake. Maybe
"You came."
She spun. Evan stood three feet away, appearing out of nowhere like a ghost. He wore a black button-down and dark jeans, too formal for a birthday party. His black hair fell into his eyes, and those storm-gray eyes were locked on her with an intensity that stole her breath.
"Happy birthday," she managed.
He didn't smile. Just studied her, his gaze traveling over her face, her dress, her brown legs and worn sneakers. Then he did that thing leaned in slightly, breathed deep, and she knew he was scenting her again.
"You wore purple," he said softly. "It's pretty on you."
Fabiola's cheeks warmed. "Thank you."
"You shouldn't have come."
"You invited me."
"Lucas invited everyone. I would've told you not to come if I'd known you'd actually show up."
That stung. Fabiola lifted her chin. "Why?"
Evan's jaw tightened. He looked past her to where Lucas was laughing, then back to her. "Because this place is wrong. The house. The lake. Everything." His voice dropped. "Something bad is going to happen today. I can feel it."
"Then why are you having a party?"
"Because Lucas wanted one. And what Lucas wants..." He trailed off, something bitter crossing his face.
"Just stay away from the lake. Please."
Before she could respond, a voice called out. "Evan! Come on, we're doing cake!"
Evan's mother appeared tall and thin, with the same black hair and gray eyes as her sons, but cold. So cold. She looked at Fabiola with barely concealed disdain. "And you are?"
"Fabiola Morales, ma'am. I go to school with..."
"How nice." Margaret Harlow's tone said it was anything but. "Evan, come." She turned and walked away, expecting obedience.
Evan looked at Fabiola one more time. "Don't go near the lake," he repeated, then followed his mother.
Fabiola tried to enjoy the party. She ate cake (chocolate, expensive, too sweet). She watched the other kids play games. She smiled when Lucas bounded over and hugged her like they were best friends, even though they'd barely spoken.
"I'm so glad you came!" he said, his grin infectious. "Evan never invites anyone himself, so I have to do it for him."
"He's not very social," Fabiola offered.
Lucas's smile faltered for just a second. "No. He's not. But he likes you, I think. He talks about you sometimes."
"He does?"
"Mm-hmm. Says you smell nice." Lucas laughed. "Weird, right? But that's Evan."
Fabiola's heart did something complicated. Evan talked about her. Thought about her.
"I should go find him," she said.
Lucas's expression turned serious. "He's probably by the lake. He always goes there when he's upset. But Fabiola?" He grabbed her wrist, and his grip was too tight. "Be careful around the lake. It's... not safe."
"Why does everyone keep saying that?"
Lucas released her, his smile returning but not reaching his eyes. "Because it's true."
She found Evan sitting on the dock, legs dangling over the dark water. The lake was perfectly still, reflecting the gray October sky like black glass. No wind. No ripples.
Unnatural.
Fabiola's steps echoed on the wooden planks as she approached. Evan didn't turn, but his shoulders tensed.
"I told you not to come here," he said.
"You said not to go near the lake. I'm on it. Technically different." She sat beside him, leaving a careful foot of space between them.
"Fabiola.."
"Why do you always push me away?"
The question hung in the air. Evan's hands curled into fists on his thighs.
"Because I'm not safe," he said finally. "Because there's something wrong with me, and I don't want it to touch you."
"What's wrong with you?"
"I don't know. But I feel it. Like there's something inside me that shouldn't be there. Something..." He touched his chest. "Something that made a promise I don't remember making."
Fabiola frowned. "That doesn't make sense."
"I know." He finally turned to look at her, and his eyes were filled with such pain it hurt to see. "But it's true. And the closer you get to me, the more danger you're in."
"I'm not afraid of you."
"You should be."
"Well, I'm not." She reached out, placed her hand over his. His skin was cold, always cold, but she didn't pull away. "I think you're lonely. I think you're scared. And I think you need a friend."
Evan stared at their joined hands. His breath hitched. "Fabiola..."
"EVAN! WATCH THIS!"
They both looked up. Lucas was standing at the end of the dock, maybe ten feet away, grinning wildly.
"Lucas, don't..." Evan started to stand.
But Lucas had already jumped.
He hit the water with a splash, and Fabiola laughed, expecting him to surface immediately, shaking water from his hair, laughing at his own antics.
Five seconds passed.
Ten.
Fifteen.
The water went still again, perfectly smooth, showing no sign anyone had broken its surface.
"Lucas?" Fabiola called.
Evan was on his feet, staring at the water with an expression of absolute horror.
"LUCAS!" he screamed.
Nothing.
Evan started stripping off his shirt, and Fabiola realized he was going to jump in after him.
"Evan, wait.."
But then she saw it.
A hand. Breaking the surface. Pale and desperate, fingers grasping at air.
Lucas's hand.
Reaching up.
Reaching for help.
Evan lunged forward, dropped to his knees, extended his own hand toward his brother's.
Their fingers were inches apart.
And Evan froze.
Fabiola watched in horror as Evan's whole body locked up, as if some invisible force had grabbed him, held him back. His face was anguished, tears streaming down his cheeks, but he couldn't move. Couldn't reach those final few inches.
"HELP HIM!" Fabiola screamed.
Lucas's hand clawed at the air, desperate, drowning.
Then it sank.
Disappeared beneath the black water.
Gone.
"NO!" Evan's scream was inhuman. He lunged forward, but it was too late. The water had swallowed his brother whole.
Adults came running. Someone jumped in. They searched for twenty minutes before they found Lucas's body, pale and bloated, floating ten feet down.
They pulled him out. Tried CPR. Called ambulances.
But Fabiola knew.
She'd seen his eyes. Gray and empty. Staring at nothing.
Lucas Harlow was dead.
And Evan..
Evan sat on the dock, soaking wet from jumping in after, staring at his hands.
At the hands that had been inches from saving his brother.
The hands that hadn't moved.
Couldn't move.
"I tried," he whispered. "I tried, I tried, I tried.."
Fabiola wrapped her arms around him, and he was ice cold, shaking so hard his teeth chattered.
"I know," she whispered back.
But she didn't know.
She didn't know about the pact.
About the promise.
About the thing that had stopped Evan from saving Lucas.
The thing that whispered in the deepest part of him.
We live together or not at all.